


Out to the Pictures (or, Anji Kapoor is Not Your Bloody Couples Counselor)

by not_my_century



Category: Doctor Who: Eighth Doctor Adventures - Various Authors
Genre: First Date, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 12:49:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_my_century/pseuds/not_my_century
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor asks Fitz to a movie. Fitz is confused. Anji thinks they're both idiots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out to the Pictures (or, Anji Kapoor is Not Your Bloody Couples Counselor)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://aroacenoahczerny.tumblr.com/post/48392804181/hello-there-we-dont-talk-much-but-i-would-like-to) prompt on Tumblr. Unbeta'd, so please forgive any mistakes. ETA: Now beta'd by the lovely shiny_glor_chan!
> 
> It's fluffy. So, so, so fluffy. OUR SHIP NEEDS MORE FLUFF.

Fitz blinked. “I’m sorry, you’re going to have to say that again. You want me to go _where_ with you?”

 

“To see a movie!” The Doctor bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “I was thinking maybe the premiere of Star Wars, or one of the early-22nd century Bond films, you’d love those.”

 

Fitz’s brain was not quite wrapping itself around this concept, which was a testament to the years he’d spent with the Doctor, he supposed. In the life he now considered “normal,” the only person who asked anyone to see a movie was, well, no one—or, well, there was that one time he’d tried that on a blue-haired babe from somewhere around Alpha Centauri, but she’d had no idea what he was going on about and made him feel a right idiot. In other words, movies were things you watched when you had ten hours to kill before the destruction of the Earth and there wasn’t anything you could do anyway, or when you had to spend bloody months in some time or other waiting for something to happen and managed to be stuck sometime after they’d invented the television. They were not things you went out with people to see, and they certainly weren’t things you went out with the Doctor to see. He was usually far too busy saving the world. Or the solar system. Or the universe.

 

“I… er… all right?” he said, studying the hem of his jacket in an attempt to compose himself. What the bloody hell was the Doctor up to? Was this whole movie thing an excuse to get them into the movie theatre where some alien invasion happened or something? Was he trying to get Fitz out of the way? _What was going on?_

 

“Great! Well then, what would you like to see?” The Doctor beamed, running a hand through his already tousled hair and fiddling with something on the TARDIS console. His smile didn’t seem quite genuine. He was _nervous_ , Fitz realized. Was this his way of letting Fitz down easy? Was he going to leave him at the movie theatre?

 

“Er, 22nd century Bond sounds good,” Fitz answered distractedly, infinite scenarios running through his head.

 

“Great! I’m sure Anji won’t mind if we, er, drop her…. somewhere….” The Doctor, more than ever, seemed to be unable to stand still, and Fitz was starting to get very, very suspicious. Had the Doctor planned any of this out at all? He resolved to be on his guard, no matter what.

 

***

 

“I’m sorry, you’re doing _what_ now?” Anji asked incredulously, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“We’re going to the 22nd century to see a movie. Do you mind, er, shopping or something? They’ve got some lovely shops in 22nd century London. A good time for fashion, as I recall.” The Doctor seemed even more distracted than he had earlier. “Can I talk to you, by the way?”

 

Anji gave him a suspicious glare, but nodded slowly, shooting an incredulous glance at Fitz, who shrugged hopelessly and watched the two of them walk off towards Anji’s bedroom in the TARDIS, the clicking of Anji’s sensible black heels echoing through the suddenly-silent console room. A few minutes later, Anji poked her head around the corner of the hallway. Fitz, who was sitting in the most comfortable armchair he could find and idly flipping through a book he had found lying around (he couldn’t have told you the title, nor what it was about, though he was sure it was in English; his mind simply wasn’t anywhere near the subject), didn’t notice her at first. She cleared her throat loudly until Fitz looked up, then she burst out laughing, presumably at the miserable expression Fitz was sure he must be wearing.

 

“You’d better get dressed,” she said cryptically, leaning forward a little with her arm wrapped around the corner of the wall and an unreadable expression on her face.

 

Fitz stared at her. “Am I not dressed?” was all he could think to say. Ordinarily he’d have had a witty comeback, but at the moment he was too worried about this bloody movie to think of one.

 

Anji laughed again, her head thrown back, bracing herself on the wall. “No, you thickheaded dolt, I mean you’d better put on something nicer. That bloody jacket and…. whatever that shirt is supposed to be, is that even a shirt? Anyway, whatever you’ve got on is definitely not going to cut it. Wardrobe. Now.”

 

Fitz was very, very confused. Even more confused than he had already been. So bloody confused that he felt like he’d wandered into someone else’s life. He wanted to ask why, but instead he just sighed and walked towards her. Anji always knew best.

 

As he passed, she patted him on the shoulder and said, “You’ll be fine. I know it must be odd for you not to have initiated the date for once….” Here she rolled her eyes and continued, “just try not to use any lines that are _too_ awful, yeah?”

 

Fitz nearly tripped over his own feet. “Wait wait wait, the _what_?” he nearly screeched, turning around so fast he thought he might have sprained something.

 

This time, Anji launched into a full-out attack of the giggles. Fitz just stood there as she laughed her bloody head off, and when she finally had enough breath to talk, she called him an idiot and laughed some more. Fitz didn’t exactly think the situation was very funny.

 

“Oh god, I’m sorry…” Anji wiped her eyes, grinning. “It’s just so bloody ironic! You, of all people, not picking up on that particular cue! The one that was _blaringly obvious_ and—oh my god.” She started laughing again.

 

“In my defence, I wasn’t exactly _expecting_ that!” he shouted, then realized the Doctor could probably hear him and dropped his voice to a near-whisper. “I didn’t even think he _understood_ ‘that particular cue,’ as you so aptly call it! What was I _supposed_ to think? I thought he was plotting something!”

 

“You thought he was—oh, _Fitz_. The two of you are completely hopeless. Now _please_ put something nice on and _take off that bloody jacket._ ” She herded him into the TARDIS wardrobe, flicking a speck of dust off of the offending jacket as she did so.

 

Who-knew-how-much-time later (could have been twenty minutes, or twenty years, or two hundred, or all three; you never knew in the TARDIS), Fitz was standing awkwardly in the doorway of the TARDIS, uncomfortable in his blazer and dress shirt (on which he and Anji had compromised; she had also, grudgingly, allowed him to wear jeans, as long as they were _nice_ jeans). The Doctor was dressed similarly; he could see that Anji had played fashion consultant to the both of them, complaining all the way, he suspected. He tried not to think about how attractive the Doctor looked in jeans and a button-down. He looked attractive in absolutely anything, and it was completely unfair, and when had they reached the movie theatre?

 

Afterwards, Fitz could barely remember a thing about the movie. It was, well, a Bond movie, only with 22nd century tech and slang and mannerisms. The actor was no Connery, but he played the part fairly well; there were an equal amount of Bond girls and Bond _boys_ , which Fitz had not expected but quickly got used to, and plenty of things exploding (right next to his head—their 3-D technology was amazing) and (hover)cars. The only things he really remembered, though, were the times when the Doctor kept finding excuses to get closer to him. It was a classic movie-theatre move, and Fitz wondered where he had learned it; he wasn’t exactly complaining, though. By the end, the Doctor’s head was on Fitz’s shoulder, their hands were entwined, and Fitz had decided that going to movies with the Doctor should definitely be somewhere under the definition of “normal life.”


End file.
